He kisses me back, in a way I’ve never been kissed. He takes his time, runs his hand over my cheek, pushes my hair behind my ear and trails his fingers back down along my jaw. He tastes like I know I do, spice and salt, mixed with the wetness of tongues and skin.
I’m overwhelmed by him, by his touch, by how much I missed being wanted by someone.
We both pull back, sucking in air. Our eyes stay locked, my chest heaves in time with his.
“Brynn—”
“Stop.” I put out a hand. “Don’t say anything. Please just do that again, and again, and again, and again.” I lower my knee so it’s no longer between us and clutch my hands to my chest as I say it.
Connor doesn’t say another word. He pulls me in, and this time I’m flush with his chest. He kisses me like I asked, and then his lips move to my jaw, my neck, and back up to my lips.
When his lips are on me, everything that hurts floats away.
I am Elizabeth Brynn Montgomery. I’m not a baby-killer, and I’m not running away. I’m a twenty-four-year-old woman who’s letting a man use his hands and lips to make her feel good.
I’m normal again.
10
Connor
Things I’ve learnedabout Brynn since I woke up yesterday:
1. She’s a pretty crier. She doesn’t scrunch her face like most girls do.
2. She’s amazing at the rhyming game.
3. Her lips taste even better than I thought they would.
I don’t knowwhat she’s going to be like today, but I’m excited. Yesterday, after our intense thirty-minute make-out session on the bench, we still had to work together all afternoon. We didn’t kiss again, but things were a one-eighty compared to earlier in the week. She smiled at me and playfully bumped into me, and I touched her waist when I needed to step around her.
I’m in such a good mood, I even wave at Walt as I pass his place. He scowls, but that’s to be expected. I’m early to get Brynn, and when I left my house, I texted her and told her I was coming early. She told me she was finishing up some exercise. Maybe it’s that barre thing she mentioned before? I’m not sure how someone does that in their home.
I park in her driveway and walk up. She pulls open the door for me before I can knock on it.
“Hey,” she says, her lips curving into a small smile as she bites her bottom lip.
From the living room comes a woman’s voice. “What’s that?” I ask, confused.
“That would be the exercise I mentioned. It’s a yoga channel I found on YouTube. I just love this woman.” Brynn leads the way to where her laptop sits open. She presses a button and the voice stops. I peer around her at the screen.
My eyes pop and my mouth hangs open. “That looks like it hurts.” The woman on the screen is bent at an angle and has her arms intertwined beneath her. “Is she pregnant?” Her stomach is round and big, and she looks pregnant, but it’s a gamble to ask the question.
“Yep. She looks amazing.” Brynn picks up the computer and closes it. “Sometimes her husband will do a video with her. He’s funny. I think he used to play professional soccer. She mentioned it once, in an older video.”
“Her hair is very red.”
She grabs a piece of her hair and tugs. “I thought about dying my hair like hers once.” When she says it she gets that faraway look I’ve come to recognize.
“I like your blonde hair.” I reach for her, but she steps away.
“I need to take a quick shower. I’ll be right out.” She hurries down the little hallway and into a room, quickly shutting the door behind her.
My frustrated sigh fills the room as I let some of my excitement go. I should’ve prepared for this. Why would Brynn fall into me so easily? Did I really expect her to completely change her behavior, just because we kissed? I sit down on the couch to wait for her. A paperback book lies on the side table, probably the same one she dropped when I scared her last weekend. I grab it and look it over.
The cover shows a girl carrying a shopping bag in a city scene. She wears big sunglasses and has red lips. It doesn’t look like Brynn’s style. Maybe it’s Ginger’s, though I can’t imagine her reading this either. I open it and see a note written on the inside flap.
Elizabeth, you really know how to throw a party. This is the book I told you about. Shots are on me next weekend.
